WakeUp Call
by rockstarpeach
Summary: Spike gets tired of sleeping chained up in the bathtub, and decides to break out, and sneak upstairs to pay Giles a late-night visit.


My second fic for **summer_of_giles**. A little bit of Spike/Giles this time.

Title: Wake-Up Call

Pairing: Spike/Giles

Rating: Adult

Summary: Spike is sick of sleeping in the bathtub, so he decides to break out, and sneaks upstairs in the middle of the night to pay Giles a visit.

***

Spike was sick of sleeping in the bathtub. The only reason he'd put up with it for as long as he had, (and yeah, alright, so a couple of weeks wasn't exactly all that long, but it was longer than Spike normally preferred to be chained up in tight-arsed watcher's bathroom, being straw-fed substandard blood by a bunch of kids), was that he had nowhere else to go.

He cast his eye down as he raised his hands slightly, looking at the cuffs around his wrists, and the chain connecting him to the shower curtain rod, and snickered. This was a joke. He could have broken out of this half-arsed attempt to lock him up the second they'd come up with it. He'd thought about it, considered breaking himself free and getting the bloody hell out of there, but… he had no idea what he would do.

He was helpless with this stupid chip, practically an invalid, unable to fend for himself, protect himself, _feed_ himself, for fuck's sake. He was like a child, and a petulant one at that, sitting around hoping that Giles and Buffy and the rest of the Scoobies would keep on deciding not to kill him just yet.

Was bloody embarrassing.

But, he'd have a bitch of a time surviving on his own like this, knew about a dozen demons in Sunnydale alone that would be after him as soon as they learned he was helpless, and so he'd stayed.

But now, enough was enough. He closed his eyes and huffed out a breath, kicking his feet against one end of the tub and tilting his head back, knocking the back of it on the other end, one last childish display of aggravation, lashing out at nothing, blaming the cool porcelain for his impotency, because he couldn't take it out on anything else.

Almost without a thought, he pulled his wrists apart, the thin chain holding the cuffs together snapping laughably under his power. One hand was still chained to the shower curtain rod, and sure, he could have just grabbed on to the chain with his free hand, and broken it, but with a wicked smirk he pulled, hard, and ripped the rod from the wall, catching it as it fell, and felt stupidly pleased when bits of plaster were ripped out as well, tumbling to the floor, and making a mess.

He slid off the chain and dropped the rod to the floor, cringing slightly at the loud clash. He'd only just thought, right after the noise, that it was the middle of the night, and he didn't want to wake up Giles. That would take the fun out.

He stopped by the kitchen to snag the key out of the drawer by the fridge, snorting at the Watcher's lack of creative hiding spaces, and shoved it into first one lock, then the other, snicking the cuffs off his wrists. He left them, along with the chain he'd been dragging, in a pile on the kitchen floor, and made his way through the living room to the bottom of the stairs, and silently crept up them.

Giles was sleeping, which wasn't a surprise, but what was, was Spike's reaction to the sight. It was dark in the room, and it was only due to Spike's preternatural senses that he could see him as well as he could. The window was open, which was sloppy of him, because while vampires needed an invite, anything else could just come wandering in, but it was hot for late November, and the breeze was nice, and Spike actually thought it might be kind of funny if a Groxlar beast came barging in and ripped his head off.

Giles was shirtless, probably because of the heat, with only a thin sheet covering him from the waist down. He was lying on his side, arms folded in front of him, steady, deep breaths in and out puffing up his chest. He didn't seem relaxed, even in sleep, his face still as tight and perfectly composed as it ever was.

Spike wondered if the man was capable of relaxing, of letting go, and what it would take to get him there. Probably a bottle of Scotch, a quarter of pot, and the B side of _Disraeli Gears_.

Or maybe it would just take Spike.

Giles was… hot. For an old man. And it wasn't that Spike had never noticed that before, because he really, really had. He'd just thought that whole 'powerful, intimidating, big scary watcher' thing he had going was a front, and seeing that he looked that way, even in sleep, made Spike a little hard.

When he'd first snuck up here, he'd only been planning on messing with Giles a little, maybe jumping on the bed and making his 'scary face'. Possibly delight in the first couple of seconds of post-sleep haze in which Giles would react on instinct alone, and be terrified of a vampire holding him down on his bed, scraping his fangs over his neck.

Spike got harder, even groaned a little, and took a step closer to the bed.

And while that still sounded very, very good, he knew it would only be a matter of seconds before Giles would wake up enough for common sense to kick in, and he would laugh mockingly, and push Spike off, lock him up again. Probably use some magic on the cuffs this time, to make sure Spike stayed put.

No, something else was looking like a much better idea at this point. He walked quietly around the bed, to stand next to it, behind Giles, and stripped out of his shirt while toeing off his shoes. He thought about it for barely a second before he lost his jeans as well, and slipped into the bed next to the man, thankful once again that he could be extremely light on his feet when he wanted to.

Giles didn't notice, didn't twitch, his breathing didn't even change, as Spike rolled onto his side, pressed close against him, and pulled the sheet up over them both, burying his grinning mouth into the back of his neck.

He did let out a tiny… something, a sound of some kind, a grumble maybe, when Spike place his hand on his side, the man's flesh warm and soft under his touch. Spike slid his hand forward, biting his lip around a smile, thinking he was getting away with something pretty damn naughty, and when his hand was flat on Giles' stomach, he fanned his fingers out, barest touch of the tips, tickling him.

Giles was solid, well built, and Spike supposed he would have to be, in his line of work, but there was a layer of padding over the muscle. Spike normally wouldn't have found that the least bit attractive, but on Giles, somehow, it seemed to work. It didn't make him seem too soft, squishy and pliable, like a woman, and it didn't make him seem out of shape.

He certainly wasn't overweight, it was just that his years were beginning to catch him up, and so were the nightcaps and increasingly decedent food. Spike liked it. Spike wanted to touch him, all over, dig his fingers in and feel his warmth spread through him. Wanted to hold on to Giles tight and bury himself inside.

Of course he wouldn't. That would be going too far. But he could have a little fun.

His hand slipped down a little, fingers dipping just under the waistband of Giles' boxers (which Spike was please to discover was all the man was wearing), and tangling through the course hair he found there. Giles wasn't hard, not yet, not that he'd expect anything different from a middle-aged man at three in the morning, but Spike didn't think it would take much.

Not after Giles groaned slightly and rocked his hips, when Spike pushed forward, his hard cock brushing up against the thin cloth covering his arse. Spike lifted his head just a bit, stuck his tongue out and trailed it across the side of Giles' neck, moved his hand down just a little bit more, to cup the man's flaccid dick in his cool hand.

Then Giles woke up, because really, who could sleep through that? He jerked, a sharp movement though his entire body, tensing and sucking in a breath. Spike didn't let up, just closed his lips over Giles' neck and squeezed a touch tighter on his dick, purring and rocking forward against him again, as it started to fill.

"Relax," Spike told him, almost a growl, and flicked his tongue out over the cuff of his ear.

Giles let out a shaky breath, but he did, in fact, relax. Not by much, and Spike could still feel him almost shaking against him, but he wasn't jumping out of bed, and he wasn't pulling that stake out from under his pillow and plunging it into Spike's heart.

He was probably thinking that Spike had managed a way around the chip, and he had to be careful, or he'd get his throat torn out.

"Spike," Giles breathed, going very still next to him as he spoke. "What… what are you doing?"

Spike pressed even closer against him, if that was possible, breathing in the heady smell of sweat and Giles, spicy with the first cautious sparks of fear, and made a fist around his hardening cock, starting to pump, encouraging him to get stiffer. Giles did put in a half-arsed attempt to twitch away then, probably starting to wake up a little bit more, but obviously still not enough.

"Hold still, watcher," Spike said, kissing down his shoulder, and moving his hand around, slipping the band of his shorts down over his hips. Giles let him, which he took as a good sign, and set up a steady rocking rhythm, his bare erection moving against Giles, sliding between the cheeks of his arse.

"Spike…" His voice didn't sound entirely coherent, but he tried again to move away, shaking his head, possibly to clear it, or maybe to say 'no'. If it was the latter, Spike sure as hell wasn't about to listen. He held him tighter, hand back on his now-hard prick, the other slipping under him and around his chest, pulling Giles tight against him.

Giles froze in Spike's arms, no longer struggling, probably trying to lull Spike into a false sense of security while he waited for the best chance to make his move. Or because he knew he wasn't going anywhere anyway. It helped that Spike was stronger, and the fact that Giles was only half awake, and horny now, not really fighting as hard as he could he, didn't hurt.

"What's the matter, Rupert?" he asked, slightly teasing lilt to his voice. "You're acting a bit…" He twisted his hand then, thumb rubbing hard over the tip of his cock, pulling the foreskin down, and Giles let out a pleasured cry, rocking forward into the touch. "Twitchy," Spike finished, not bothering to hide the smile in his tone.

"What the hell are you…" Giles said, pushing forward, back, forward again. "What the hell are you doing in my bed? Touching me like… And how the hell did you get out of the bathtub?"

He was starting to sound clearer now, waking up a little more, and Spike held him tighter, just in case. He was probably still hazy enough to just go with it, it had probably been long enough since he'd been touched like this that he'd accept it, but he was still pretty bloody butch, not at all the type to just lie there and take it, and Spike didn't want to take any chances.

"You're kidding, right?" Spike asked, chuckling against the back of Giles' neck. "You didn't honestly think those bits of scrap metal could hold me, did you?" He couldn't have possibly been that stupid.

"I… I thought…" Giles sounded nothing like himself, sounded flighty and half-awake, and too turned on to form a proper thought. Good. That was exactly how Spike wanted him.

"Oh, you did?" Spike moved his fist up and down over Giles' cock to keep him complacent. This was his first real shot at a warm body in a while, and Spike didn't want to let it slip away. "I don't know whether to think that's cute, or terribly sad. I may not be able to hurt anything that can move on its own, but a bit of inanimate steel is still no match."

He pumped his hand a few more times, Giles sucking in a breath, and felt a pool of pre-cum pile at the tip of his cock.

"I wouldn't… shit, Spike… I wouldn't be too cocky about that," Giles told him, sounding remarkably like he meant it. "I can still kick your arse, you know."

Spike pulled his hips back far enough for the head of his cock to nudge between Giles' cheeks, the way barely slicked by his own fluid, snickering as Giles pushed back against him, despite his words. "Sure, watcher. And you will, any second now."

"Spike," Giles warned, low and threatening, and his hand came out of nowhere, clamping down hard over Spike's wrist on his chest. "I may have been taken a bit off guard here, but I'm not an idiot, and I'm certainly not weak. Now stop this, or I will hurt you."

"Yeah," Spike agreed, really, truly believing that Giles _would_ hurt him, if he got the chance. That didn't stop him from moving his hand just a little faster on Giles' cock, thrusting with a little more force against his arse, getting almost enough friction to send him over the edge. "But you don't want to, do you?"

Giles tried to move forward again, away from Spike, and Spike continued to hold him close, move his hands over him, gentle and sensual, but unforgiving, working all his best moves to keep Giles still, calm.

"What I want, is for you to fuck off, Spike," Giles said, but the sharp intake of breath, and the very slight forward-back of his hips, told Spike a different story.

Spike could have called his bluff and let him go, and see if he actually left, but there was no way in hell he was going to risk that.

He also could have used his superior strength to turn Giles over, force his way inside, and they'd both have gotten off, with Spike buried deep, surrounded by tightness and warmth like he wanted.

But he didn't want to do that either. For one thing, he didn't want to risk hurting Giles, even just a little, because he didn't want the headache. Also, he didn't want to give Giles a chance to escape when he had to loosen his grip in order to flip him.

Because Giles seemed complacent right now, despite his feeble protests, but anyone would when they were being held forcibly from behind, with a tight, moist grip on their cock. But as soon as Spike let go, of anything, some sense might come back, and Giles would bolt. He knew the older man would never have done something like this with him if Spike had played fair, and not forced it on him.

"Please, Watcher," Spike begged, a low growl in his ear, and rocked his hips again, pulling relentlessly on Giles' cock. "Just hold still and let me." He didn't add 'you know you want it', because it would have been a lie. Giles didn't want this, or wouldn't have if he'd been thinking straight, but Spike had made sure that wasn't a possibility, and at this point, he could do whatever he wanted.

He was only asking so that later, when the reality of this set in, Giles wouldn't be able to pin it all on him. Not that he really had a problem with forcing the man, with holding him still and taking what he wanted. Hell, if he didn't have the chip he could have a whole lot of fun taking, but it was always more fun when Spike could make them want it. And if he asked, and Giles let him, maybe he wouldn't end up in a bath of holy water as soon as Giles came to his senses.

Giles didn't say anything, but Spike felt him breathe out a steady, slow breath, some of the stiffness going out of his body, and his hand loosened up fractionally on Spike's wrist.

Spike smiled into Giles' neck, scraping his teeth lightly over it, and he groaned low in his chest, when Giles started to move his hips in time with Spike's, very slightly, hardly even noticeable, but Spike was paying very close attention.

He didn't say anything, didn't want to risk saying the wrong thing, which was of course what he would do, and piss Giles off, break this spell that was causing the man's breathing to speed up, and soft little moans to escape his lips. He just kept moving against him, cock sliding up and down along his crack, his leaking tip slicking the way slightly, and worked his hand over Giles' erection.

He kept up with the kisses on his neck, his shoulder, his ear, as they rocked against each other, Giles getting bolder in his movements as they both worked toward orgasm. It wouldn't be long, not for Spike, because he could already feel his climax approaching, his balls getting tight and tingly, and he wanted to take Giles with him over the edge.

No Spike wasn't going to last long at all, and it was almost embarrassing, but he hadn't exactly gotten any in a while, and this was actually turning out to be a whole lot of fun. He got a perverse sort of thrill out of reducing Giles, normally so collected and hard and _superior_, to a boneless heap of grunts and gasps.

Spike worked Giles' cock faster, holding back with his own thrusting a little, and waiting until he felt Giles hips buck, and his body tense, readying itself for climax, before he let go himself, pushed his hips back and forth quickly, the warmth and tightness around his cock sending him crashing to orgasm along with the human.

"Thanks watcher," Spike said when he was finished, letting go of Giles' softening cock, wiping his hand on the sheet, and pulled back. His front was sticky with his spend, but it felt good, satisfying, and he started to roll over, planning on lying back on the bed and getting comfortable, giving himself a few minutes to recover, and then maybe taking a nap.

He was feeling pretty good, sated and warm, and not chained up to a bloody bathtub, and this moment would have been pretty close to perfect, if Giles hadn't shot up and spun around, surprisingly spry for an aging man just after sex, and punched him, hard, in the nose.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" Spike croaked out, hand coming up to cup his nose, coming away sticky with blood. It wasn't the first time he'd been hit by Giles, and the man wasn't getting any weaker. It _hurt_.

"I told you I'd hurt you if you didn't stop," Giles pointed out, sounding much too reasonable for Spike's taste, back to his old annoyingly composed self. He was smirking a little though, and Spike would have been pissed off about that, if it didn't suit him so well.

"Bastard," he mumbled, and Giles just shrugged pleasantly, got up out of the bed, and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him.

Less than a minute later Spike heard the shower turn on, and he snorted to himself, and used the sheet to wipe the rest of the blood from his hand and nose, then used the pillow case to wipe the cum from his crotch, with a pleased grin.

This had all actually gone better than he'd thought, despite the punch in the face, and he thought it might even be worth trying again sometime. Right now though, he was feeling a little peckish. He slunk out of the bed and pulled on his clothing before heading downstairs. He thought he saw some Wheetabix on the counter earlier, and he was going to start making himself a little more at home from now on.

END


End file.
